《Divine Usurper: Reborn from the Ashes》

Chapter 8 Humiliation

Dashing out of the room where he’d been cooped up for over ten days, Qin Mufeng realized he’d been living in a small courtyard. Low, gnarled trees dotted the space, their twisted branches sprawling outward. Beneath them sat an array of bonsai in various sizes, their coiled forms echoing the rugged charm of the moss-covered stone path that wound through, narrow and secluded, evoking the lonely stillness of an ancient forest.

After days of isolation, Qin Mufeng felt as if his bones were rusting. Bathed in the warm, springlike sunlight outside, he let out a long breath, only to shiver abruptly from head to toe. Grasping Xiaoyu’s soft, boneless hand, he quickened his pace and bolted out of the courtyard.

Once outside, though, he had no idea where to go. The midday sun blazed down, stinging his eyes and banishing the last traces of sleepiness. Turning to Xiaoyu, who trailed behind him looking lost, he barked, “Hurry up! If we dawdle, what’ll happen if something goes wrong with my mother?”

Already disoriented, Xiaoyu flinched at his sharp tone and instinctively darted toward a large gate. Qin Mufeng watched her purple hair flutter as she ran, a faint smile tugging at his lips. With his short legs pumping, he hurried after her.

Along the way, he silently memorized the route Xiaoyu took, determined not to embarrass himself if he ventured out alone later. He passed several oddly dressed people whose stares struck him as peculiar, but with no time to dwell on it, he pressed on.

Beyond the gate, Xiaoyu halted, and Qin Mufeng, unfamiliar with the path, stopped too. Noticing her flushed cheeks and the budding outline of her small chest, he put on a stern air and demanded, “Xiaoyu, why’d you stop? If we waste time, I won’t let it slide!”

“Young Master, we should go back. People from the inner courtyard aren’t allowed to just wander up front,” Xiaoyu whimpered, pointing ahead. “It’s training time now. If the stewards catch me, I’m done for!”

Following her gesture, Qin Mufeng saw, a hundred meters away, over a thousand men standing in neat rows. Each held a stone block of varying size, motionless as statues on the yellow-earth training ground, not a sound breaking the silence.

The sight of those stones—some clearly weighing over a thousand pounds—stunned him, his heart sinking. Among these rugged men, who looked no older than their late teens or early twenties, lifting such massive weights and holding them steady for so long demanded incredible strength.

But what shocked him more was the boy at the center of the field. About his age, with hair like spun gold, he too hefted a thousand-pound stone block without flinching. His chiseled face, sharp as if carved by a blade, bore a pair of sapphire-blue eyes that sparkled like gems.

Trouble—this kid’s pure trouble! Qin Mufeng pegged him instantly. So striking even as a child, he’d surely grow into a heartbreaker. As Qin Mufeng stared, the boy seemed to sense the attention. Turning his head, he locked eyes with Qin Mufeng, his sea-blue gaze dripping with disdain.

Who’s this brat, acting so cocky? Qin Mufeng fumed, irritation bubbling up. But before he could dwell on it, Xiaoyu’s gentle eyes froze over as if struck by ice. She nudged him discreetly, trembling as she whispered, “Young Master, let’s go—trouble! I didn’t expect to run into the second young master right out the gate!” Tugging his arm, she bolted toward a grand hall across from the training ground like a whirlwind.

“Worthless coward, only fit to hide behind a woman’s skirts. I wonder if you even count as a Qin family man!”

The boy’s taunt, still tinged with a childish lilt, hit like a slap—laden with mockery, contempt, and a gleeful jab. It set Qin Mufeng’s heart ablaze, his gut churning with fury as if flames roared within. His mouth went dry, his throat burned raw. He wanted to stop, to turn back, but the sight of that thousand-pound stone in the boy’s hands snuffed out the impulse.

A wise man doesn’t fight losing battles. Though still adjusting to this body, after ten days in it, Qin Mufeng knew he couldn’t lift that weight. It was as if a sudden illness had ravaged him, like a mighty tree felled by an unexpected frost, leaving only brittle twigs behind. His spirit sagged under the weight of cruel reality, a deep, powerless ache settling in.

Running on, he bit his lip hard. Today’s shame—I’ll repay it someday. I just need to bide my time, watch, and plan.

As resolve hardened in his chest, a strange sensation gripped him—his insides swelled, his senses stretched, as if someone were frantically pumping air into him. Before he could react, his body lifted off the ground. Panicked, he hit the hard yellow earth with a thud.

“This council hall isn’t a place for you to barge into, Young Master. Please go back.” As pain seared through him, a cold voice cut in from nearby. Struggling to lift his head, Qin Mufeng glared at the two burly figures looming at the hall’s entrance, rage surging within.

They did it on purpose! Though he was clueless about martial skills, the faint smirks flickering on their faces told him they’d meant to humiliate him. Gritting his teeth, he hauled himself up, every inch of his body screaming as if flayed from the inside out. Still, he straightened his small frame.

I won’t let them laugh at me—never! Fists clenched, he fixed the men with an icy stare. Under that frigid gaze, the guards—seasoned as they were—felt a chill ripple through them, their honed wills wavering.

What’s this? We’re fourth-rank warriors—facing higher ranks shouldn’t shake us like this! Exchanging puzzled glances, they wondered why a mere look from this “cripple” felt like a blade—sharp, searing, and cold.

“Young Master, I’ll say it again: this isn’t your place. Return to the rear courtyard. If the master catches you lingering here, it won’t end well,” the left guard said, his plump face blooming with a greasy smile like a cockscomb flower, though it masked a steely chill.

Xiaoyu, paralyzed with fear, could only gape as Qin Mufeng faced off with the men, too scared to move. With a cold laugh, he shot back, “And if I insist on going in—what then?” He stepped forward, defiance blazing, a lock of hair slipping over his brow as he moved to stride past.

A thick arm barred his path, a surge of force radiating from it. Amid that energy, Qin Mufeng felt a fiery heat, locking his body in place, unable to advance an inch!

“Young Master, I’ve told you—you can’t enter. It’s clan law. The council hall is sacred ground for the Qin family—only elders and warriors may step inside for deliberations. Anyone else is forbidden. If you force your way in, don’t blame us for getting rough!”

“If you won’t let me in, I’ll go anyway.” Mustering all his strength, Qin Mufeng took a resolute step forward—straight into the blocking arm!